


Cullen's Night

by Forianna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Porn Without Plot, mage inquisitor, quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forianna/pseuds/Forianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick fic, inspired by a lovely piece of Cullen art made by the amazing @daggerarcadia on tumblr. You can see the piece in question here ---> http://daggerarcadia.tumblr.com/post/104657202535/cullen-eating-an-apple-on-the-inquisition-throne</p><p>One shot porny goodness of my lovely Inquisitor with commander Cullen. Hope you enjoy it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cullen's Night

They had a rule about odds and evens. It was the fifth of the month.

Cullen’s night.

Now, it being “his night” could mean anything; from dinner, to chess, to putting all of Dorian’s dancing lessons he didn’t think she knew about to use in her private quarters. The elf mused about what he had planned; she had been away in Val Reaux, playing plitician, being the mouth piece of Inquisition against her will. A particularly arrogant duke refused to deal with Jospephine any longer and demanded to speak directly with “the savage Inquistor”. Simply put, things hadn’t gone well, and it had kept her away from Skyhold for many more weeks than she had to spare.

Kestrel opened the doors to Skyhold and was greeted with two unexpected sights. The first was the hall was empty. It was usually bustling with life, between the nobles, masons, pilgrims…even Varric’s table next to his favorite fireplace was oddly vacant. The chandeliers hanging from ceiling and candelabras lining the walls were all dimly lit, only half of the candles sporting a flame. The lights flickered as a breeze pushed through the massive double doors as they swung closed behind her, drawing her eyes to the head of the room. She held her breath as she heard the doors slam into place at her back, shutting out the world beyond. Amber eyes were locked on her from the other end of the room. That’s when she was met with the second unexpected sight.

Cullen, seated on the throne, one ankle crossed over the other. He was so relaxed, like a lion lazing in the midday sun. Most notably however was his state of undress; nothing out of place except a missing shirt, leaving the broad expanse of his chest bare.

_Oh, Creators…_

“Cullen?”, she called hesitantly, her mouth going dry as he produced a shiny green apple and held it aloft, ready to take a bite. His golden eyes watched her like a wolf watches it’s prey; hungry, eager, ready to pounce. He was deceptively still as she walked up the aisle. She knew this particular mood; he was merely waiting for her eager consent and then there’d be little reasoning with him, save for their safe words.

“Yes, Inquisitor?” He asked, tone even, the rich timber of his voice edged with darker promise; warm honey, sweet and sticky, dripping down cello strings. It shook her to her very core. She was nearly to him now, and she watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips enticingly. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and if the heat in his gaze was any indicator, her growing closeness was having much the same effect. 

Kestrel looked over her shoulder, giving the room a quick once over for any prying eyes. Even Vivienne’s loft was conspicuously empty, the double doors to her balcony notably closed. How in the world had he arranged this? 

"You look rather comfortable," kestrel finally said as lightly as she could, the ache in her throat making itself know as her words crackled into the evening stillness. This was so unabashedly public of a display and her lover, in such repose upon her throne, looking like he  _owned_  the damn place…

"I am," he responded with a smirk. Cullen finally took a bite of that apple, teeth breaking the flesh agonizingly slowly. Again hi tongue skimmed his lips, collecting the juices of the fruit he had just begun to savor. She’d never thought she’d be envious of an apple, but here she was, supposed Herald of Andraste, wishing he’d devour her whole. "I could be more so, however." 

There were a few tense seconds where they simply took in the sight of each other, committing these moments of barely restrained desire to their memories to remember on cold nights away from each other’s embrace. The silence swelled between them as she walked up the set of steps to her throne, until she stood above him, their eyes locked on the other’s, their chests rising and falling slowly with their restraint. 

All it took was her first move to climb into his lap and he let the apple fall to the floor, a soft thud, followed by another clatter of his helmet joining the barely eaten fruit. He pulled her onto his lap, his hands skating up her sides, and he was kissing her; her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, her lips, hungrily chasing after every little whimper and moan that slipped past and swallowing them whole because it been so long,  _so very long_  since they’d found their comfort in each other. Kestrel captured his lower lip with her teeth and tugged, just enough pressure to make him growl, and his hands were on her hips and pressing her into his lap, and he—

"Oh, Creators, Cullen," the elf gasped out as his hardness pressed against her. He ground up against her, a dirty groan rumbling from his chest. The feeling made her tingle, the sensations manifesting in goosebumps that ran up and down her arms and legs. She ached for him, missed the heat of him, missed the sunshine of his smile and the way he’d whine when she pulled his hair. 

"Clothes," He ground out in return, his restraint a frayed rope that was being burned away one woven thread at a time. The commander was shrugging out of his coat and draping over the arm of the throne before his fingers worked to undo each clasp on her shirt that kept her skin from his hungry gaze. She stood only to shed her shirt and drop her leggings, her small clothes following suit. Cullen quickly worked his belt open, and pushed his trousers and small down past his knees before she was straddling his lap once more. His hardness was pressing against her, pulsing and achingly hard. She kissed him again, seeking his tongue with her own, and it was all she could do not to cry out as he rutted needily against her. When she lifted her hips she felt her lovers hands settle on her waist, guiding her with trembling hands, as she sank down onto him and he pushed up into her hot and ready core.

The sound that left him was positively filthy, pleasure soaked relief and such satisfaction. “Oh Maker—” Cullen choked out as the mage began to roll her hips, airy moans and gasps of pleasure punctuating each downward stroke. He moved with her, his hands sliding down the graceful arch of her back to the curve of her backside. She reached up with one hand and clung to a spire of the throne, her knuckles going white, the other dropping to skim over the scarred skin of his chest. He kissed her fiercely, a needy grunt muffled against her lips, as he sat up and began to thrust up into her heat with a desperation that hadn’t been there before.

"Love, may I…?" He gave her backside a light tap to indicate what he wanted, her face flaring with a blush. She’d tease him relentlessly, later, but at this moment all she could do was groan and nod her consent. He lifted his hand and let it fall, impacting with a resounding crack that made them both moan outright. He repeated the motion, making her quake above him, as he found her neck and lavished her with his teeth and tongue, uncaring for the bright red marks that would bloom into vibrant bruises later. 

He felt her edging closer to completion, her muscles working his shaft and squeezing him tighter with each inward thrust. She was going quiet, like she always did when she began focusing on the rapidly building pleasure that would explode and leave her writhing in his arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him, his forehead now pressing intimately to hers. He loved watching her closely when she found her pleasure in his arms. Just a few more thrusts, just had to hold on for a few—

"Come for me, love," he whispered to her, his mouth hanging open hungrily. Her eyes were just beginning to screw shut when he grabbed her chin with one hand, drawing her attention back him, emerald eyes hazy with ecstasy, and the other flew between her legs and began working that sensitive bundle of nerves with practiced fingers. She practically choked on an elven oath before she pressed her forehead to his and her orgasm wracked her body. She cried out his name, her hands tangling in his mussed golden hair and tugging hard. Cullen couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as his orgasm followed hers, a blissed out groan rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. 

They sat as they were, in the silence of the court, with the Inquisitor going limp in his lap upon her throne. The only sounds were their pounding heartbeats and ragged breathing. 

"Welcome home," Cullen finally whispered as he took up his fur lined coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He could feel her smile pressed against his neck.

Tomorrow was the sixth.

Cullen wondered what the Inquisitor had in mind for  _her_ night.


End file.
